


avoidance strategies

by younglemonade



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, SuperCorp, i have such a thing for mistaken identity, karlena
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8853865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/younglemonade/pseuds/younglemonade
Summary: “I’m not over her,” Lena breathes, and she hopes Supergirl hears what she really means: that she might never be over her. She adds “this doesn’t mean anything”, because it seems like a good way to sum up the fact that she’s imagining someone else, not matter how hard she’s trying not to.Supergirl nods, and then they’re kissing again. ///the one where Lena breaks up with Kara to keep her safe (from Lex's men, from her world, from Lena herself), is heartbroken, and tries to distract herself by rebounding with Supergirl





	1. in which it ends (and begins)

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! this is quite different from anything else i've written for supercorp, a little angstier in terms of premise. you have probably all figured out from 12" by 8" that i have a real thing for the kara/supergirl mistaken identity thing. i can't get enough of all the shenanigans it offers. anyway, i hope y'all think this is okay.

They’re not fighting, exactly, just talking. But it’s that terribly quiet kind of talking, where every vowel and consonant carries more gravity and causticness than could ever be achieved with shouting and screaming. Their conversation starts with “I need to talk to you about something” and ends with “I just – I can’t do this”.  
  
The whole thing is bookended by silence: before, a nervous sort of quiet; after, a suffocating vacuum sucking away all the noise.  
  
“So that’s it?” Kara asks, and she’s tilting her head in that adorable way she does when she’s curious, except this time, her brow is cinched and her hands are clenched white into fists at her sides. “We’re done?”  
  
They’ve only been dating four months, so it shouldn’t break Lena’s heart as much as it does when she says – “Yeah. Done.”  
  
Lena can see the tears welling in Kara’s eyes, but also how angry she looks, how confused. It’s probably because she can tell that Lena’s official reasons for breaking up with her are bullshit. Kara’s always been the kind to _fight back_ against things, and she can’t do that if she doesn’t even know what she’s really fighting.  
  
It’s not just that Lena won’t explain to her why things are suddenly collapsing around them, it’s that she _can’t_ – isn’t sure how to get Kara to understand _you’re too bright and I’m too dark_ , or _I’m not safe_ or _someone like you deserves better than me._ Besides, in a few days, a week, maybe two or three, Kara will be over it. She was never all in this, not like Lena was (still is). There were a lot of signs: the disappearing at odd hours, the vague excuses, the last-minute cancellations – Lena grew up around secrets. She’s always known when someone is lying, even though with Kara she tried so very hard not to know. She isn’t sure exactly what’s being kept from her, and she thinks it’s better that way; she always wanted Kara to trust her, but there are such things as immovable objects and unstoppable forces, and there’s only so long you can reach for something that you know you’ll never touch.  
  
If Lena doesn’t leave now, she’s sure, she never will, because Kara has this kind of gravity that’s almost impossible to escape from. The only thing that lets her walk out of the apartment and close the door behind her is the knowledge that one day, Kara will thank her for this, because Lena’s a _Luthor_ , an anchor, pulling down, and Kara has so far to go, up and up.

/ / /

Kara stares blankly at the wall for an age after Lena leaves. Really _leaves –_ the room, the building, and her. She feels like she’s been hollowed out, numb and dizzy. She had wanted so much for it to work, wanted Lena (still wants her).  
  
She thinks about calling her sister – Alex will bring ice cream and her favourite movies and a familiar shoulder to cry into. But her phone stays in her pocket, because she’s not ready to be made to feel better yet. She’s barely had time to comprehend what she’s lost in the space of half an hour.  
  
Kara had thought they were doing well. Lena made her smile, laugh, made her twist her hands awkwardly in her lap as her stomach flipped. When they kissed, it was like the first time she felt Earth’s sun wash over her: warm and bubbling and filling her up inside. Kara has spent most of her time on Earth trying to be whatever’s needed – an assistant, a friend, a human, but around Lena she was just… happy.    
  
Sure, the past few weeks, Lena had seemed a little more distant, but she’d said work was being particularly stressful, and Kara had given her the space to figure it out, to come to Kara for what she needed once she was ready.  
  
And now… Kara presses her palms into her eyes, hoping the pressure will stem the tide of tears. No such luck. She sinks back onto the couch, feeling like she’s sitting in the middle of a crumbling city, trying to figure out where the bomb was. All she can think is _why, why, why_ , because even though Kara’s no stranger to losing things she loves, in the past, she’s always known the reason they disappeared.

/ / /

Lena gazes at the report on her computer screen, trying to focus enough to force the blurry letters to form words. But it’s almost one a.m., and she’s barely left her office since she broke up with Kara a week ago, and she’s _exhausted._ Which is good, which is what she wants. Because if she isn’t this tired, she knows she’ll start thinking, then feeling, and it’ll take a while to dig herself out of that particular rabbit hole.  
  
Her office couch lurks in her peripheral vision, and the memories attached to it are giving her a headache. Kara perched there as a baby reporter, enthusiastic and cheerful and completely oblivious to Lena’s attempts at flirting. The two of them sharing take out, curled up, trying to fit something like a date around Lena’s horrifyingly packed schedule. Kissing her girlfriend, pressing her down against the cushions, skating a hand up and under her shirt, tracing her ribs.  
  
Lena rubs her temples. It hurts – it aches – but she made the right decision. Lex still looks at her back like there’s a target painted on it, and he’s never had a problem with collateral damage. Not to mention the voice in the back of her head that whispers constantly, reminding her that there was a time when her brother thought he was good, too, and she has no way of knowing whether that rotten, _Luthor_ part of her will corrode her eventually, too. She’s keeping Kara safe.

/ / /

Kara tries to give Lena space. But after seven days, she cracks under the weight of how much she needs to see her, how much she wants to know what broke between them, how much her fingers itch to touch her again.  
  
Of course, it’s not all that likely Lena will tell her what’s really going on now if she wasn’t prepared to a week ago, and even less likely that Jess will let Lena’s ex-girlfriend (the “ _ex_ ” part still burns like Kryptonite) into her office.  
  
So she doesn’t go as Kara Danvers.  
  
Alex had insisted that she couldn’t tell Lena about Supergirl, that the CEO was in enough danger without being in possession of such high-risk information. While they were dating, the secrecy had bothered Kara no end, but now she’s glad for it, because maybe, just maybe, Supergirl can get Lena to talk where Kara couldn’t.

/ / /

Lena looks up at the soft knock on her window. There’s a flash of red and blue on her balcony, and she allows herself a smile, rising to let National City’s resident hero in.  
  
“Supergirl, this is a surprise,” she greets, because even though it seems that she gets a disproportionate amount of time with the superhero, her visits remain an unexpected event every time.  
  
Supergirl grins at her, but there’s something in her eyes, something that Lena can’t quite decode. “Well, you know, nobody’s tried to kill you in a little while, which is pretty suspicious activity around here,” she jokes, but it’s weak.  
  
Lena raises her eyebrows. “Why are you really here?”  
  
The hero shrugs. “There’s not a lot going on at the moment, and I just wanted to check in.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Lena says immediately, and it tastes like a lie, sounds like one.  
  
“Really? Because most people don’t work this late. It seems kind of unhealthy, Miss Luthor,” Supergirl notes, gesturing around her office. The city lights illuminate her face gently, and she looks like art. Lena’s always thought her to be beautiful (not the way Kara is beautiful, all soft and dorky and cute, no one else is like that), but it’s even more starkly apparent now.  
  
She shrugs. “I’m entitled to my avoidance strategies, aren’t I?”  
  
Supergirl frowns. “What are you avoiding?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter. It isn’t working.” Supergirl’s eyes flick up to the couch at the other end of the office, like she _knows._  
  
“Would talking about it help? I am very good at keeping secrets,” she promises. Lena should be listening to her, but she’s a little distracted by blonde hair and blue eyes; she’s projecting, she knows she is. She wants it to be Kara in front of her so badly that she can almost imagine it.  
  
God, she _misses_ her so badly.

/ / /

Kara wonders if it’s possible for Lena to have got prettier since they last spoke. Because those high cheekbones and red lips and sharp eyes certainly seem even more attractive than ever. Her fingers twitch at her sides. She remembers being young, and the Danvers taking her to museums to teach her Earth culture, telling her to keep her hands behind her back, to not touch the artwork, no matter how much she wanted to. She never grew out of that need to reach out.  
  
“Miss Luthor?” she prompts, stepping closer. That’s gravity for you.  
  
Lena starts, looks up, pulling herself out of her mind. “I appreciate the thought, Supergirl, but I’m afraid that there isn’t much you can do. Super strength can’t really fix everything, unfortunately.”  
  
Oh, but how Kara wishes it could. Wishes that the sun gave her the power to fly across the chasm between them and hold Lena tight. “Is avoiding really healthy, though?” Because they’re over, and even if they stay that way, she wants Lena to be safe and happy more than anything. “Maybe you should go talk to whoever you’re having problems with, and sort it out.”  
  
Lena sighs, shakes her head. “I can’t. I – I broke up with my girlfriend. But… it was the right thing to do.” Kara can’t see how them not being together could be the right thing, but she nods tentatively. “And you’re right, I suppose. I should stop avoiding and start moving on.”

She says _moving on_ the same way most people say explicit curse words, but that doesn’t stop Kara from panicking. She feels sick at the thought of seeing Lena with someone else, kissing someone else, falling in love with someone else.  
  
Kara takes another step nearer to Lena, a reflex, an involuntary movement, born out of the irrepressible urge to be close to her. “Moving on?” she whispers.  
  
“Mm. You know, rebounding, rebuilding, that sort of thing. At least try to get over it.” Kara can tell from emphasis that _try_ is the operative word in the sentence. Lena does that lip-biting thing she does when she’s frustrated, and it’s like a magnet, drawing Kara’s eyes. It’s a terrible idea, a mistake, because she’s Supergirl right now, not Kara, and Supergirl isn’t supposed to want to kiss Lena, even if dear _god_ Kara does.

/ / /

Lena watches as Supergirl’s gaze flicks down to her mouth, sees her inch forward, the distance between them evaporating. She should step away, but she hasn’t felt anything in a week, and maybe this will cut through the numbness. She supposes that for a lot of people, a superhero would be someone they desperately want to kiss; for her, that person is miles away, probably lying on her couch, watching Netflix and eating pot stickers. But Kara is gone now, out of her life, and maybe this will help Lena pretend that she’s okay with it.  
  
Supergirl’s lips brush hers, and it's soft and delicate, but Lena isn’t interested in either of those things. She just wants to _forget._

/ / /

Lena kisses her back hard, and Kara can’t help but respond equally, can’t stop the way her fingers jump out to dig into Lena’s hips, can’t resist the small moan when hands tangle in her hair. It’s been so _long_ and she needs this so _badly_ that she gets lost in it like an addict, because it turns out that she really can’t do this whole _no Lena_ thing. She meant to come here to talk, but apparently the path to pushing Lena Luthor up against her desk is paved with good intentions. Something gets knocked over – a light, a pencil holder maybe? – but Kara’s barely pausing to breathe, let alone to pay attention to anything other than Lena.  
  
Time slithers by them, out of the window, out into the night.  
  
Suddenly, Lena pulls away, just a little, and Kara chases her mouth, only to have a finger pressed against her lips. Then –

/ / /

“I’m not over her,” Lena breathes, and she hopes Supergirl hears what she really means: that she might _never_ be over her. She adds “this doesn’t mean anything”, because it seems like a good way to sum up the fact that she’s imagining someone else, not matter how hard she’s trying not to.

Supergirl nods, and then they’re kissing again.


	2. in which more mistakes are made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: this isn't supposed to be a depiction of a super healthy way to deal with a break up, it's supposed to be angst. if you're looking for that wholesome supercorp vibe, i gotchu, but not here. go check out SUHaH.

She can hear Lena’s heartbeat racing as hands slide over skin and mouths skate down necks. It’s not as fast as she’s used to when they’re this close, and Kara can’t help but wonder what that means.  
  
Lena groans slightly when Kara’s fingernails drag up her thighs, and she’s just managed to sneak past the hem of her skirt – _finally_ – when she picks up a distant scream with her super-hearing, sighs, and forces herself to pull back slightly (maybe she should add “incredible self-control” to her list of powers).  
  
“I’ve got to go,” she breathes against Lena’s collarbone, reluctantly stepping away, and nearly tripping over her own feet as she does, because Lena’s never failed to stop her from thinking clearly. “Someone’s in trouble.”  
  
Lena nods sharply, one hand already fixing her hair. She looks remarkably composed, and Kara _hates_ it, because she feels like she’s short-circuited, and it’s not really fair that this only ruins her. “Of course, Supergirl,” Lena says shortly, and she seems to have shut off somehow, although her thumb still darts up to wipe away lipstick from the side of Kara’s mouth.  
  
If she doesn’t leave this very second, she’ll stay in the L-Corp penthouse forever, so with that, she retreats to the window and hurls herself into the night.  
  
She stops the mugging, drags the offender to the local police station, along with cups of coffee for the on-duty officers, and escorts the would-be victim home safely.  
  
Afterwards, Kara does one last swoop past the L-Corp building, just to make sure Lena’s gone home to rest. All the lights are off, so she takes that as a good sign, even though a part of her was hoping that Lena would still be there, and they could finish what they started.

/ / /

Kissing Supergirl is good. She’s a stranger, and that’s a lot of the appeal, Lena supposes. She’s not damaging anyone by getting involved with someone who has feelings she can’t reciprocate. Supergirl presumably just needs to burn off some steam, and Lena needs to… burn off some memories.  
  
Every time Kara flickers through her mind, she pulls Supergirl closer, kisses her deeper, bites her lip harder, but none of that shuts the thoughts out.  
  
It’s nice and just rough enough, and even though her body’s responding exactly right, there’s none of that soft, warm sensation she gets when she kisses Kara. She doesn’t smile into Supergirl’s mouth, doesn’t smirk at the feeling of bright, cute shirts unbuttoning under her fingers.  
  
That’s okay, though. She’s not trying to replace Kara, would never try, would never even _think_ to.  
  
But she doesn’t know how to deal with having broken up with her, having _needed_ to, and this is the only place she can think of to start. With a distraction.  
  
When Supergirl is called away, and she leaps off the balcony and into glow of the city’s neon lights, Lena doesn’t miss her.

/ / /

It’s past two a.m., but Alex always keeps the largest window in her apartment wide open for emergencies like this. Kara tumbles in, landing a little roughly on the carpet, and Alex glances up from her laptop (where she is knee-deep into the first season of House of Cards, which Kara refuses to watch with her, citing all the ‘mean people’) in time to be doused in a tangential, panicked rant about the evening.    
  
“You did _what_?” Alex sits up, putting down her coffee and shutting her computer down.  
  
Kara pouts. “Do I really have to repeat it all?”  
  
“No, Kara, I’m being indignant,” her sister tells her, getting up and heading into the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it to boil. “Look, I know breakups are hard, okay? All of them, but especially ones where you cared about the person a lot. But using your secret identity to make out with them is a really, _really_ bad idea.”  
  
“At the time, it _felt_ like a good idea,” Kara mumbles. “And it’s not like a I planned it, I just wanted to talk to her.”  
  
“Is that what the cool kids are calling it these days?” Alex smirks.  
  
Kara glares. Well, tries to. She’s never really mastered the art. “I _did._ I still don’t even know why we broke up. It’s like, we were fine, or I thought we were, and then she said a bunch of stuff about going in different directions, and it was just _over._ And I hate that because I – I -”  
  
“I know,” Alex tells her, a warm hand settling comforting on Kara’s shoulder in a one-armed hug, before she’s reaching up into the cupboards and pulling down the hot chocolate powder. “So did she kiss you? Or did you kiss her?”  
  
“Um, I kissed her. She was talking about how she had to move on, and I just couldn’t, you know? And then we were, uh,” – Kara decides to spare her sister a description of _that_ part of the visit – “and then she said that she wasn’t over me, _Kara_ me, and that it didn’t mean anything.”  
  
Alex stares at her for a long moment. “This is a huge mess, you know that, right?”  
  
Kara hangs her head. “I know.”  
  
“This kind of thing always comes crashing down, Kara. You two have got to talk to each other, or you’re both going to get wrecked,” Alex says, stirring Kara’s hot chocolate, and adding those baby marshmallow things that Kara firmly believes ought to be listed among humanity’s greatest accomplishments.  
  
Kara presses her face into her palms. “I think we already have been.”

/ / /

By three in the morning, when she still can’t sleep, Lena gets up and writes down on a piece of paper the reasons that she and Kara are broken up in the first place, because it’s terribly easy to forget, her fingers itching to reach across and grab her phone, to dial the one person that she really, really wants to talk to.  
  
She’s a Luthor, she’s lost almost everything she’s had in her life, but Kara is bright and hopeful and it had been so addicting to believe that she would be the exception, that somehow, the universe would cut Lena a break, and her time as a part of Kara’s world would have no expiration date.  
  
When she gets up to go to work the next morning, she slips the list into her pocket.

/ / /

“And Danvers, go get a quote from Lena Luthor about Opal City’s anti-alien rally,” Snapper barks, and Kara flinches, goes pale.  
  
“Um, maybe, uh, someone else could do that?” Kara suggests quietly.  
  
He raises an eyebrow in such a way that it could carve through wood. “This isn’t kindergarten, Danvers. You don’t get to choose what you do all day. Don’t come back here unless you’ve got an interview which is going to offend half the population so much they’ll have to read it, and validate the other half to the point where they’ll send it to all their friends.”  
  
Kara actually does take the bus to L-Corp this time, more to procrastinate than anything. Seeing Lena as Supergirl had been a relief; Lena hadn’t been on guard, and Kara could see how she was going. But as Kara Danvers, reporter? Who knows how stilted it will be.  
  
Jess lets her into Lena’s office, but only because she insists that it’s CatCo business, and she’ll probably get fired if she doesn’t get this quote. She and Jess used to get along quite well, but the assistant’s icy demeanour these days doesn’t surprise her; Lena inspires unwavering loyalty in her employees, and it’s more than reciprocated.  
  
Her breath catches in her throat when she enters the office, sees Lena at her desk, looking just as tired as she did yesterday.  
“Hey,” Kara mumbles quietly, nervously adjusting her glasses.  
  
Lena smiles at her, and it’s soft and small and she’s probably not supposed to see it, but the tiny movement lifts a thousand pounds from Kara’s shoulders. “Good morning, Kara,” she says gently.  
  
If this was three weeks ago, she would’ve got up from behind her desk, kissed Kara, and they would’ve sat on the couch, fitting interview questions in amongst anecdotes and their-days-so-far and organising dinner plans. But it’s not, so Lena stays seated, and Kara hovers in front of her, like she did before they knew each other.  
  
“How are you?” she asks.  
  
She wonders if Lena will lie, say _I’m fine_ , the way she did to Supergirl. Instead, Lena just sighs. “Can we not do that, please? Let’s… let’s get you that quote, okay?”

/ / /

They talk for a while about the rally, about L-Corp’s official positon on alien refugees, and Lena’s own standing on the issue. Kara never asks about how her past effects that, never asks about Lex, and it’s the little things like that, which no one else ever thinks – cares – to do which hit Lena in the chest.  
  
After about ten minutes, she gets up to grab a copy of the official report about the alien detection machine being scrapped. She turns around to give it to Kara, but the reporter’s already stepped up to get it, and they both freeze instantly at the realisation that they’re about two feet closer than they meant to be. There’s only a few inches between them, and Lena can’t seem to break eye contact as she slowly hands Kara the file. Neither of them have the sense to back away.  
  
Lena thinks about the list in her pocket. _You can’t because of Lex. You can’t because of that time-bomb inside you. You can’t because you’re no good for her. You can’t because –_  
  
Gravity is stronger than she is. It doesn’t help that she doesn’t want to resist it.

/ / /

Lena kisses her, and it’s so much better than when she was Supergirl, because Lena _means_ it. Kara can hear it in the way her heart trips over itself, feel it in the way her ex-girlfriend’s thumb sweeps delicately over her cheek.  
  
It’s bad, because they haven’t talked, and _stupid chemistry_ , _why does this keep happening to them?_ She shouldn’t kiss Lena back, because they’re over, and they’re no closer to being healed, but she does. She kisses her back hard and deep, because maybe it’ll be enough to unravel Lena, to force the reasons they’re not together anymore to the surface.  
  
The paperwork is falling to the floor and Kara’s being pushed up against a wall, her hands tangling in Lena’s hair, tugging sharply at the raven locks. She bites Lena’s lip, and there’s that soft moan, the one that Supergirl hadn’t been able to elicit, and the CEO presses into her. Kara can’t do anything but pull her nearer, searching for friction, gasping for air. In the time they’d been together, Kara had got far too used to this heat between them, this roller coaster that they’ve never been able to slow, and she can’t seem to go without it.  
  
She’s bad at video games and remembering to pay her electricity bill and making plans before she heads into a fight, but by far the thing she’s the worst at is staying away from Lena Luthor.

/ / /

At first, it’s like she can breathe for the first time in more than a week, and Lena loses herself in the feeling. But eventually, she manages to drag a coherent thought together in between kisses, and stumbles back, pulling away.  
  
She’s being selfish, she’s hurting Kara, and she can’t do that. She broke up with Kara, for very good, important reasons, and yet, she’s kissing her. It’s moments like this when the amount of Lex she sees in herself is terrifying – she’s being just like him, forgetting impulse control, doing what she desperately wants instead of what’s best for other people. That part of her, that’s why they aren’t together anymore in the first place.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” she rushes out. “I’m so sorry, Kara, I shouldn’t have done that.”  
  
Kara doesn’t reply for a moment, looking a little dazed. “You, um, we probably shouldn’t have.” She stares at Lena for a long time, then says, “Why – why are we broken up?”  
  
Lena sighs. Lies. “Different directions, Kara, remember? We talked about this.”  
  
Kara frowns. “Really? Because you still want me.”  
  
Lena doesn’t argue, could never argue with that. “Yeah. I do.”  
  
“Are you going to tell me what’s really going on, then?” Kara asks, stepping closer. Lena backs up, puts distance between them.  
  
“There's nothing going on,” she says. The desk separates them now. “I’m sorry. I’m such a – I’m so… You should go.”  
  
Her heart aches as she watches Kara run a thumb over her lip, fixing the smudging in the gloss, before she disappears out the door.  
  
Lena needs to just stick to drowning these feelings with Supergirl and alcohol. No one gets hurt that way; _Kara_ doesn’t get hurt that way.

 


	3. in which they talk a little and there are some bad ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooh boy. i've never really written angst before, so i'm only just learning how to walk that line of "damn that's rough" and still trying to make the characters recognisable and sympathetic. the premise of this is probably a little ooc anyway, but w/e it's fun to write.
> 
> this fic should be titled "El finds ways to make Kara and Lena angstily make out in the L-Corp office" although next chapter we will hopefully have angsty make outs at exciting new locations. these two are such a disaster in this fic oh well.
> 
> also you should probably re-read the end of last chapter so you know what they're talking about

There’s something going on, Kara’s sure of it now. Well, almost sure – a part of her is worried she’s just hearing the things she wants to hear, interpreting reality in such a way that she won’t have to let Lena go.  
  
But the way she’d said, “yeah, I do”, had been so heavy, each letter weighted with a sense of resignation behind it, that she has to look deeper, further, searching desperately for a chance to un-make their mistakes.  
  
Again, though, Lena stops her, tells her it’s nothing, sends her away. Kara wishes that there was a physical obstacle between them, something that she could punch until it broke to pieces, instead of this insurmountable distance that’s of their own making. Emotional barriers are so much harder to conquer than corporeal ones.  
  
After her meeting with Lena, she flies off to the DEO, and spars with one of the on-duty agents, trying to escape from her frustration. With each punch, she thinks about how much she wants to just _talk_ to Lena, to hold her, to kiss her.  
  
Because if that look on Lena’s face means anything, it’s that she’s enjoying being broken up about as much as Kara is, and yet, she isn’t trying to fix things between them.  
  
Kara _doesn’t understand_ her, and it’s killing her, having this girl _just_ out of her reach.

/ / /

That evening, Lena numbs the guilt and heartache with whiskey. Not so much that she’s drunk, but enough that she feels a little less terrible, less focused, less aware of everything she wishes wasn’t happening.  
  
There’s the light thud of footsteps touching down on the balcony beside her. This many storeys up, there’s really only one person her visitor could possibly be, so Lena doesn’t even take her eyes off the skyline when she roughly mutters, “Supergirl.”  
  
A light hand comes to rest on her shoulder, warm and surprisingly gentle for someone made of steel. “Are you okay?” Even now, her voice has that heroic backbone, the vowels and consonants said as if they’re in bold.  
  
Lena takes another sip, letting the alcohol burn her throat. “No.”  
  
“Is this about… what we talked about the other day? Your girlfriend?” Supergirl enquires gently, and if it were anyone else, Lena would probably snap at them to stop prying, but she doesn’t have the energy to fight with a hero right now. That, and all the people she might’ve once had to discuss this with will have disappeared, tied to Kara and inevitably severed with her.  
  
So she nods. “Yeah. Ex-girlfriend,” Lena clarifies, unable to stop the wince. “I kissed her today.” Supergirl nods, but doesn’t say anything. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m trying so hard to stay away from her, and then the second she’s in front of me, it’s like every reason I broke up with her doesn’t exist anymore.”  
  
“Why – why did you break up with her, exactly?”  
  
Lena swallows the rest of her whiskey, watches as Supergirl’s eyes fix on the movement of her throat. Of her two very ill-advised methods of distraction, the empty glass means she’s already employed one of them, and the other is standing, windswept, beside her.  
  
“I told her we were going in different directions,” Lena says, running a hand through her hair, letting the style tumble away; with the business day over, there is no need for her to pretend to be put-together anymore.  
  
Supergirl’s expression is unreadable. “Are you?”  
  
“Yeah. She’s going up and I’m going down,” Lena laughs drily, not wanting to see Supergirl’s reaction to that, instead staring out at the neon lights that glitter below her, like the city has collected fallen stars and affixed them to the buildings to keep them close to the familiar sky. If she looks, Supergirl’s face will read either pity or indifference, and she doesn’t need either of those things. “She’s better off without me. She doesn’t see it yet, but she will. She just needs time. And I’m ruining it by slipping up, just because I want her so bad. Miss her so bad.”  
  
She turns in time to catch the flaring, burning in Supergirl’s eyes. “She’s not better off without you.”  
  
Lena glares back at her fiercely, the anger she’s been carrying around for the universe bubbling up below the surface. “Do you imagine I would have done this if I wasn’t completely sure? I didn’t completely stomp all over the most important relationship in my life just because I _felt_ like it.”

There’s a lull, and Lena gives the silence a moment to mature before stepping away, back inside her office.

/ / /

 _She’s better off without me.  
_  
The words are ringing loudly, horribly in Kara’s ears, sticking to her skin, and she can’t shake them. She has no idea where Lena got that idea from; their friendship, their _relationship,_ has done nothing but make her better, more settled, happier. She needs to set Lena straight, needs to make her understand it, but she’s Supergirl right now, so she can’t argue with her quite like she wants to.  
  
“You should go talk to her. I’ll fly you there right now,” Kara offers, certain that with a speedy costume change and some careful flying manoeuvres, she could pull that off.  
  
But Lena’s shaking her head before Kara’s even finished her sentence. “No. I’ve thought this out from every possible angle. I’ve made the right choice. She’s safe. Now, I just need to live with it. _Deal_ with it.”  
  
And it’s idiotic and terrible and probably self-destructive, but Kara can’t help but think that maybe she can be with Lena as Supergirl. Because she’d rather half have her than not at all. She’d rather be able to check in and talk and touch her, even if it’s not exactly as she wants, than to lose her entirely. Just until she can find out whatever Lena perceives the threat to her to be, and obliterate it, make her understand that Kara could never, ever be _better off without her_ ; maybe then, Kara and Lena can try again. She wants to just _tell_ Lena who she is, but the target on the back of her ex-girlfriend’s head is already so big, and there’s the niggling fear that Lena would simply send Supergirl away as well, and they would both be left with nothing.  
  
“And how are you going to deal with it?” Kara asks, praying to god that Lena’s not going to do anything stupid, because she can be reckless sometimes, especially when she’s got no one to anchor her, no one to make her want to stay. Growing up without anyone caring about her has made Lena rather blasé with her health, her happiness, and it breaks Kara’s heart every time she sees those old habits begin to shine through. She doesn’t want to _fix_ Lena, exactly, because people don’t work like that – but she does want to support her, hold her hand, and be there while she heals herself.  
  
“Time. Alcohol. You, maybe?” Lena smirks, but it’s a little bitter and distant and not all that much like the seductive expressions that would make Kara’s stomach roll while they were together.  
  
But maybe she can change that. If Lena fell in love with Kara, surely she can with Supergirl, too, and that wouldn’t be perfect but it would be _enough._ And that’s the best Kara can hope for unless (until) she manages to stop Lex, and gets rid of whatever Lena thinks she’s keeping Kara safe from.  
  
“I’m here,” Kara assures her. “For whatever you need.” This is probably going to make everything into an even worse mess than it’s in now, and in hindsight will likely rank very highly on the worst decisions Kara’s ever made in her life. But it’s _Lena,_ for crying out loud, and how is she supposed to just walk away? When she still loves Lena, when she’s certain that Lena still loves _her_ , when all that’s between them are the ill-founded ideas of _the right thing_ and _safe_?  
  
Lena sighs, and it sounds as if the air in her lungs is made of concrete. If she were here as Kara, she’d pull her in for a hug, hold her tight, rub her hands gently along Lena’s shoulders and suggest they have a lazy night, do nothing but watch TV on the couch and point out plot holes in fantasy shows. But she’s Supergirl, so all that happens is her fingers twitch at her sides while she contemplates what Lena would be okay with her doing, considering they’re barely even friends. “Thanks. But I don’t need anything tonight, really.”  
  
Lena leans back against her desk and Kara remains standing a few feet away as they talk a little longer, the CEO diverting the conversation to less fraught and trying topics. She looks so pretty, the moonlight dancing over her pale skin, and Kara _aches_ , because people should just get to be with who they want to be with, and everything else should become noise in the background. But the world isn’t like that.  
  
After a while, Kara decides it would be best to give Lena some time to herself, maybe encourage her to go home and rest. And if she were thinking clearly, instead of pre-occupied with thoughts about Lena’s jawline or how she might narrow down what the other girl means by “she’s safe” and “she’ll see it one day”, she’d jump off the balcony and into the night. But she isn’t, and she’s spent so much time in this office as Kara Danvers, reporter, girlfriend, that she forgets herself for a moment.  
  
Kisses Lena goodbye.

/ / /

Lena isn’t expecting Supergirl to kiss her, but when she does, Lena pulls her closer instead of shoving her away. Because even after two glasses of whiskey, she can still taste Kara, but maybe this way, she’ll be able to drown out that sweetness, like recording over an old cassette with a new song.  
  
Supergirl makes a small noise of surprise that turns quickly into a moan, and Lena bites her lip, swallowing the sound. Memories of earlier, of kissing Kara, of hearing the report fall to the floor and pushing her ex-girlfriend up against the wall fill her mind. She draws Supergirl harder against her to her, as if by kissing her deep enough, she’ll be able to go back in time to that moment and feel Kara squirming against her, tugging on her blouse.  
  
The blonde lifts her up onto her desk properly, like she weighs nothing, and it’s hot, all that power. Not as hot as Kara nervously adjusting her glasses, or losing focus and letting her eyes train on Lena’s lips while they’re meant to be having a work conversation, but the attainable kind of attractive. The most Lena ever expects to find in anyone else who isn’t Kara Danvers, who is, she knows, one of a kind.  
  
Supergirl’s fingers trail up her thighs, under her knees, lifting Lena’s legs to wrap around her waist, and they’re inching towards horizontal, the angle changing as Lena pulls and Supergirl presses, both seeking skin, friction, and in Lena’s case, escape.

/ / /

She’s totally leaving. She definitely, absolutely is. To an outsider, out of context, it may look as if she’s kissing Lena with everything she has and unbuttoning her shirt with slightly shaky hands, but really, Kara has every intention of flying away. Because her vague, half-baked idea of Lena liking Supergirl requires some actual _liking_ to take place, rather than just using her as a distraction. Of course, because it’s Lena, being used feels _really_ good – like _Jesus Christ_ that thing she does with her tongue – but it’s still not the right way to go about this.  
  
She kisses down Lena’s neck, letting her teeth skate over her collarbone, and receiving a gasped “no marks” as hands tighten in her hair. Kara can’t help but frown a bit at that – she’s never been told not to leave any marks before. But then Lena’s dragged Kara’s mouth back to hers and she forgets that in favour of losing herself in the kiss, in the hands roaming over her body, in the darkness of the office and the heat that burns between them.  
  
Just before she decides that maybe common sense can take a vacation for a day and she can finally have Lena like she wants so badly to after so long apart, the CEO pulls away.  
  
“We, we should stop,” Lena mumbles, breathless, which makes Kara smirk a little in spite of herself. “I can’t – do anything more. I know Kara and I have been broken up for a while now, but I still wouldn’t be able to.”  
  
If she was with anyone but Lena, Kara couldn’t have even considered in either. But she’s got this far, and she wonders if Lena is subconsciously recognising the familiarity of her body.  
  
Kara nods, and pulls back, her heart still racing just as fast at Lena’s. “Yeah. Right. Okay. But – maybe, maybe we can hang out some other time?” Hang out sounds like a euphemism, but Kara really means it. She wants to talk to Lena about her day, tell her bad jokes and make sure she smiles. Kara’s more than aware that most of Lena’s friends are also Kara’s friends, and that she’ll have lost contact with them now that they’ve split; Lena needs to have someone she feels like is in her corner, even if it’s her hero-with-benefits.  
  
“You look a little like her, you know,” Lena mutters absently, and Kara has to work not to flinch. “Most of it’s probably in my head, I know, but it’s enough that…”  
  
“Enough that you want to kiss me,” Kara finishes, and tries to make some sense of the fact that Lena seems to imagine one version of her while making out with another. Lena’s shirt’s still unbuttoned, though, hanging open, and yeah, that’s enough to take her mind off things. “It’s okay. Break-ups suck, believe me, I know,” she mumbles, and it’s raw.  
  
Lena’s eyebrows raise in confusion, perhaps, but mostly sympathy. “That’s a surprisingly bitter tone, Supergirl.”  
  
Kara nods. Her hands are still resting on Lena’s hips, though they’re not digging in anymore. She knows she’s doing better than most people who get broken up with by someone they love – she’s still close to Lena, even now, and she knows that Lena wants her back. But it still stings. Because as nice as shoving her onto her desk and kissing the hell out of Lena is, what Kara really wants to do is curl into her on the couch, feel Lena’s fingers tracing up and down her vertebrae, and talk softly about her day with her girlfriend, and listen in return. “Yeah,” she sighs. “I know. Sometimes I think that the easiest part of my life is fighting crime, and it’s the rest of it that’s hard.”  
  
Lena offers her a small smile, brushes her thumb gently over Kara’s cheek. “For whatever – or whomever – you’ve lost, Supergirl, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Me too,” Kara says, and the universe must be having a good old laugh at her, letting Lena tell her that.

/ / /

The urge to call Kara isn’t any less than it was yesterday; if anything, it’s worse. But Lena bites her lip and shuts it down, closing the door to her apartment behind her and trying to think of something else. She hopes that Kara isn’t too mad at her about what happened in her office this morning. The idea of Kara being angry at her burns. All she wants is for Kara to be happy; that’s why they aren’t together anymore, after all.


	4. in which they suck at breaking up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmaooooo this fic is such a mess sorry everyone who came along for the ride

“Hey.”  
  
Lena starts at the familiar voice, nearly dropping the champagne flute in her hands. She’s at a CatCo fundraising gala, so she’s not entirely sure why she’s so surprised, but she doubts she’ll ever be able to hear Kara’s voice again without her heart stopping at least a little bit.   
  
She turns around, and for the life of her can’t keep the soft smile off her face. Kara’s beautiful in her delicate blue dress – she’s gorgeous in sweatpants, too, and no matter what she’s wearing, seeing her is a punch in the stomach.  
  
“Hi,” she breathes back. It’s been a week since that day at the office, which is entirely too long to go without her, and yet only a taste of the rest of their lives.   
  
Kara glances around. Lena’s standing alone in the corner of the ballroom, ostensibly checking her schedule on her phone, but really attempting to avoid conversations with old white guys who went to legacy private schools and want to tell her how to do her job.   
  
“No date?” Kara asks, eyebrow quirking.   
  
“Well, I used to come to these with you,” Lena says unnecessarily, because there’s no way Kara could’ve already forgotten. “Who could I take that could even start to compare?” It’s entirely too honest a thing to tell someone she’s meant to be staying away from.   
  
Kara watches her with a kind of depth that makes Lena wonder if she can x-ray her, and see the mess of emotions swimming beneath pale skin. “Snapper’s got me on the party loop again. It’s no fun without you,” she murmurs, looking down at her shoes. Lena makes a conscious effort not to follow her gaze, because she remembers those heels, recalls what they did the last time Kara was wearing them.   
  
“Well, there’s no reason we can’t hang out for a bit, right?” she offers, even as the little voice in the back of her head screams, _yes there is, what are you doing, don’t backslide now._  
  
Kara’s answering smile glows, and it’s gentler than the fluorescent lights above them, but far brighter, too. “Right. Just until you have to talk to an investor, or I have to get a quote from someone. Like ten minutes, max. We can do ten minutes.”  
  
Except ten minutes turns into an hour, because no one’s ever been able to keep Lena’s attention the way Kara does so easily. The conversation shyly begins in safe territory, flitting from gossip at CatCo to L-Corp’s latest projects, before drifting subtly into the heavier things you aren’t meant to discuss with someone who’s supposed to be a stranger these days.

/ / /

Kara can’t help but breathe out in relief when she sees that Lena’s come alone. She’s talked to her enough as Supergirl to know that the CEO isn’t cruising on from what was between them, but she’d still been afraid that the corporate maw would demand Lena arrive with arm candy. She isn’t sure what she would’ve done, exactly, if she’d had to watch Lena flirt with a pretty girl all night, even if it was just for the cameras.   
  
Somehow, the two of them end up neck-deep in conversation, and it’s comfortable, rhythmic, reminds her so much of letting her head fall into Lena’s lap and mumbling about her day at work while fingers card soothingly through her hair. She wants those moments back so badly that it makes her ache, but she’ll settle for stolen whispers at the far corner of a gala. It’s the best she’s felt in ages; Lena’s talking to her, smiling, and she can almost imagine that a fortified glass wall hasn’t been erected between them.   
  
It must be nearly an hour later when Kara realises that they’ve slowly migrated from the outskirts of the function hall and out into one of the service corridors, where it’s quiet enough that they don’t have to semi-shout over the bubble of business chat and music. It also has the unfortunate – but entirely welcome – side effect of them being completely alone.   
  
When Lena announces that standing up a second longer in six-inch heels is a medieval torture, they sink to the ground together, sitting side by side with their backs pressed to the cool concrete wall. Her dress will surely never be the same, but Kara couldn’t care less.    
  
“How are you? Really?” she asks, finally broaching the topic they’ve left carefully untouched all night. While Supergirl checks in, Lena’s never completely open around her – she’s more willing to talk about the break-up, perhaps, but the defences that Kara had slowly chipped away at are back and fully reinforced when it comes to her alter-ego.   
  
Lena sighs, lets her head drop forward into her hands. “I don’t suppose it matters, does it? I’m the one who broke us up, after all.”  
  
Kara risks letting a hand rest on Lena’s knee, thumb skirting small circles on the warm, soft skin. “But I still care about how you’re doing. So much.”  
  
“You shouldn’t.”  
  
Kara’s stomach turns at the tone in Lena’s voice; hollow and one-dimensional, words coloured with resignation and quiet veneer of self-loathing. She reaches up, fingers skating across the defined line of Lena’s jaw, and delicately tilts her head so they’re facing each other. “I should. I always will. Okay?”  
  
Green eyes flicker, and Kara can tell that Lena’s having a hard time believing in her. The CEO sighs. “Kara, you don’t have to… Look, I know you’re still hanging onto us a bit,” – a lot – “because I’ve been doing a really terrible job of helping you let go. But, if you’re waiting for permission to move on, or something, you have it. I know you were never in this as much as I was, but it’s all right to -”  
  
“ _What_?”   
  
Lena’s mouth twists, eyebrows raising. “I’m not judging you, Kara. But I wasn’t born yesterday. You cancelled half our dates, you were away at odd times of night.” She looks like she might keep listing for a second, before she breathes out, shrugs.   
  
“Is that why we broke up? Because you thought I had one foot out the door? Lena, I love you, okay? I’m _all in_ ,” Kara rushes out, unable to get Lena to understand the truth fast enough. Is that what Lena had meant by _better off without me_ the other night? Did she believe Kara thought she wasn’t good enough for her?   
  
“It’s not why,” Lena admits. “Never knowing what you were doing or who you were with kind of sucked, but I wouldn’t have split up with you over that.”  
  
Kara realises that her thumb is dusting over Lena’s cheekbone, and she’s unconsciously leaning closer, and she stops herself. “Are you ever going to explain why we’re not together anymore? It’s killing me not to know.”  
  
For a second, the doors that are always shuttered behind irises and pupils swing open, and Kara sees the raw heartache bottled up behind them. There’s a war there, too, as Lena searches for a way to articulate something clearly eluding her.   
  
Her hand drops to the clasp of her purse, like she’s going to take something out of it, before she drags her fingers away again.   
  
“We’re never going to get better if we don’t talk about it,” Kara coaxes, hoping to encourage her, but instead having the opposite effect.   
  
Lena straightens. “We can’t get better. Trust me, Kara, you don’t want to get back together with me.” Everything about her seems heavy – eyelashes, bones, thoughts. More similar to the girl Kara met behind a shiny desk that day with Clarke than the laughing one who’d add chocolate chips to pancakes and text her pictures of puppies she saw while walking through the park, just because she knew it would make Kara smile.  
  
“I trust you,” she tells her gently. “But you’re wrong about this. I do want to. I do want you.” She wishes she could shake Lena’s heart, somehow, until she understood exactly how much Kara feels for her, how it exceeds that which is properly quantifiable, how Kara has a better understanding of the infinity of the universe than anyone on this planet, but still couldn’t accurately measure how much she loves her.

/ / /

God, it’s so hard. Because Kara’s right there, looking so earnest, so serious, telling her everything she desperately wants to be true, and knows is not. Maybe Kara does love her, but only this version – not the ugly, rotting cavern inside her chest that she is sure must exist, for no one grows up a Luthor makes it out untarnished.

Kara hasn’t factored in anything but them and the way they feel, as if relationships are just about how much you love someone. But Lena’s life is full of threats and dangers and morally grey wastelands, and Kara’s brightness can’t compete with that much dark.   
  
Her mascara is going to run if they keep going down this road, because there’s only so many times she can have this conversation with Kara before it breaks her.   
“How can you be so _sure_?” she breathes out, staring down the distant staircase.

/ / /

The question confuses Kara. How couldn’t she be sure? It’s times like these when English feels far too clunky compared to the languages of other planets that she’d learned as a child, which had such beautiful and all-encompassing ways to express these sentiments. Anything she can tell Lena will seem shallow, clichéd.   
“You’re you,” she settles for. “I’d do anything to be with you.” _Like fly to you as someone else because it’s the only time you’ll look me in the eyes.  
_  
“I would for you, as well, if I thought it was the right thing to do,” Lena says, and at this point, Kara’s ready to flip a table, because there’s everything and nothing keeping them apart at the same time. Really, in a lot of ways, she thinks, it’s Lena herself between them, her past, her childhood – she’s learned not to trust, not to relax into love, and instead to sacrifice herself, to calculate the odds of failure without asking if Kara thinks what they have _right now_ is more important than any disaster in the future.   
  
“So what is the right thing?” Kara demands softly, desperately. “Not talking? Because we’ve been talking for hours.”  
  
Lena looks torn. “We… can talk. God, I’m terrible at avoiding you. I hate it.”

Kara nods, feels like she’s inching closer to the line she needs to cross. “What about hanging out? Is that the wrong thing?”

The CEO twists her hands together with anxiety, so Kara reaches out and gently takes one, threading their fingers together. Lena’s pulse hammers where their wrists touch, but she seems a little calmer. “Maybe. Sometimes. For, like, interviews and at events. That’s good, right? That’s boundaries.” Kara isn’t sure who Lena is convincing, but she’ll take whatever she can get.   
  
“What about kissing you?” she whispers, and the question hangs in the air between them, because in the corridor there’s no breeze to blow it away.   
  
Lena’s gaze jumps down to her lips for a heartbeat before flicking back up, as if actively trying to resist a magnetic pull. “I…”  
  
Kara leans in a presses her lips quickly to Lena’s cheek. Then again, slightly longer, slightly closer to the corner of her mouth. “Tell me when it stops being the right thing,” she breathes out. She goes to kiss her cheek again, but Lena’s head turns at the last second and then they’re kissing for real. Time slips and there are suddenly fingers tracing up thighs and hands tugging bodies closer and they’re too near and too far apart. They kiss like it might be the last time they ever will, because for all Kara knows, it is.

/ / /

It tastes like the right thing, feels like it is, pulls at heart like it is. But her elbow brushes against her purse as she’s pushing the hemline of Kara’s dress up, and the list in there claws to the front of her mind.   
  
“You deserve better than this,” she sighs, pulling away. “Better than me. Better than some half-relationship behind closed doors. I want you to be happy. More anything. And that’s only going to happen with someone else.”  
  
Kara lets her head drop back against the cool stone wall. “We’re the worst at breaking up,” she mumbles, gesturing to how Lena’s basically in her lap, how her lip gloss is dashed across Kara’s bottom lip. “We both want to be together, we suck at keeping away from each other, and somehow, things always end with making out or crying. You say you want me to be happy. But I want to be happy _with you_.”  
  
The words _fuck it, I love you_ are on her tongue, but she swallows them.   
  
“Kara, I’m always going to be here for you. If you need a quote for an article or the best bulletproof vest that isn’t on the market yet for Alex or anything I can give you. But -”  
  
“But you still have your reasons, even if I don’t understand them,” Kara nods, and the sadness in her voice is a crushing weight on Lena’s sternum. “So is it always going to be this way? When we meet? A giant what-if taking up all the space between us?”  
  
Lena brushes a lock of hair out of Kara’s eyes, tucks it carefully behind her ear, her fingers trailing a second longer than strictly necessary. “For a while, yes. But then you’re going to meet someone who you won’t even think about cancelling dates on, who makes your heart race, who makes you a better person.” Kara opens her mouth to say something, but Lena cuts her off. “And don’t say that someone like that isn’t out there, Kara, because I got a person like that, even if it was only for four months, there’ll be dozens out there for someone as wonderful as you.”

/ / /

Lena slides off her lap, stands up gracefully. She wishes Kryptonians had telepathy, so she could find a way to finally make Lena understand that it’s her, it’s always going to be her, and she already found her someone. But even if Lena believes her, Kara can see the way she’s trying to convince herself there’s nothing real between them, to make this easier.   
  
She remembers how Lena’s hand had come to rest on her purse, when she’d been on the verge of telling Kara what was really happening. As Lena walks away, she cheats a little, tugging her glasses down her nose and firing up her x-ray vision. 

Inside is lipstick, a phone, a couple of sticks of gum, and a note, folded up. It’s a list, she realises, and with every item she reads, the stone of grief in her stomach becomes heavier, because now she has all the answers she wanted, and still no way to fix them.

/ / /

“They have a bigger market,” Jess adds, handing her yet another report. “A higher percentage of citizens are in the upper income brackets, so sales would be boosted. You’ve done such a good job here that they’ll at least give you a chance, now, and that’s what you’ve always wanted. It’d just be for a few months, as long as you need to get the branch operational and making profit again.”  
  
Lena rubs her thumb against her temple, trying to ease away the headache she can’t seem to shift these days. She should make this decision on business reasons alone, but she can’t stop thinking about how Kara said they were terrible at breaking up, always gravitating back together, and how Lena knows they need a clean break so Kara can really let it out and let it go. It’s that understanding which pushes her to nod, to sign the papers, to send Jess to start making arrangements.

/ / /

All Kara can think to do is to begin checking things off the list; at least, the ones she can actually touch. Reasons like “3. Me” are too vague to properly tackle, but even if Lena seems more resolute than ever about their split, at least they’re kind of talking again. That’s a starting line she can stand on, plough forward from.  
  
The light is still on in the L-Corp penthouse offices, and she takes the opportunity to check in; she hasn’t seen Lena in almost a week.   
  
She lands softly on the balcony, gently eases open the glass door to walk inside. Lena’s at her desk, staring out at the city, her desk covered in papers unread.   
  
“You’re the only person I know who’s always up as late as I am,” she says. “I like having someone to talk to after even the other aliens have gone to sleep.”  
  
Lena shoots her a half-smile. Supergirl is getting closer to her, even if Kara is somehow drifting away. “It’s nice to see a friendly face when I’m knee deep in financial documents, too. But not for long, I’m afraid.”  
  
Kara tilts her head, puzzled. Is Lena banning Supergirl from her office? They haven’t had any disagreements. “Why? What’s going on?”  
  
Lena sighs, runs a hand through her hair. “Turns out I suck at the whole break-up thing. I need to give her space. And… L-Corp is doing well here, but it’s still a mess in other places, so…”  
  
Kara’s heart hammers, and she tries to unmake the connection that’s just clicked in her head. “So what?”  
  
Lena eyes her for a moment, maybe searching for something that she eventually decides isn’t there. “I’m moving back to Metropolis.”


	5. in which they're in metropolis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did someone say GRATUITOUS ANGST?
> 
> i wrote this while running a fever lol so best of luck to you all reading this. i'll check it over in the morning to see how much of wreck it is. but being sick has given me the only time i've had to write in ages, so the incoherence is the compromise.
> 
> comments are reverse kryptonite. give me strength. love u all

Kara’s ears start to ring. “Metropolis?” she echoes; she can’t possibly have heard Lena right, even with the aid of her superpowers.  
  
Lena shrugs. “I want to make amends for my brother, Supergirl. And I couldn’t start in that city, they wouldn’t touch me, but that’s where it has to end. Lex hurt them the most so I have to do more healing there. Besides, there’s nothing keeping me in National City anymore.”  
  
_What about me?_ Kara wants to say. But she can’t. And not just because she’s here as Supergirl, but because this is _it_ for Lena. Her dream. To turn a floodlight on all the places that Lex scattered darkness, and who is Kara to get in the way? As if she, that what they have, is more important than fixing fracture lines that run through hundreds of lives? Kara knows as well as anyone what is means to have a calling, a path, the irresistible siren’s call that whispers _save, save, save._  
  
“I – uh – you,” she tries, but the sentences won’t come. Kara’s got nothing except that desperate ache that sits in her chest, begging Lena not to go, except not in any kind of language that the other girl could possibly hear or understand.   
  
Kara manages a smile, even though Lena has accidentally, unknowingly, fired a bullet that breaks straight through her steel skin.  
  
“I’ll make sure to get an office with a balcony,” Lena murmurs. “In case you ever feel inclined to drop by.”  
  
“Of course I’ll come visit. If you want me to, I mean.”  
  
The corner of Lena’s mouth quirks up, in that way she does when she’s happy, but has never really learned how to properly show it. After a moment, though, her eyes go distant, and that expression fades. It drowns Kara, the knowledge that when she’s with Lena as Supergirl, she only ever half-has her. There’s a part of her that lurks behind her eyes and in her chest which is always eons away, untouchable to all except her when she’s wearing her glasses and a different name.   
  
Having a secret identity has always been hard: keeping it from Cat, from high school friends, from Lena while they were dating. But she’d never thought it would be like this, tripping over herself and her lies and how the world simply refuses to have everything turn out all right in the end.

/ / /

Lena stares out at the still-familiar view and sighs. She misses National City. Well, not the streets and towers so much as the people inside and all that came with them.   
She misses her _life_ , but she has no right to, not when she’s the one who irreparably crushed it under heel and then scattered the dusty fragments in the wind.   
  
She still has a google alert for Kara Danvers, and reads every article her ex-girlfriend writes, even though she probably shouldn’t. This distance between them is ostensibly for Kara, to help her, but the truth is that Lena needs the space just as badly, if not more so. Kara, at least, loves fast and hard, burning bright with a reckless disregard for tomorrow. She’ll heal just as quickly. Lena’s heart, though, moves like a tectonic plate, so slow to trust, too slow to recover. She’ll never fully close over the gap Kara has left, but that’s okay. She doesn’t really want to.

/ / /

Kara waits a full eight days after Lena officially moves back to Metropolis before going to see her. It’s pretty impressive impulse control, if she does say so herself. It’s been a fairly crime-heavy week, though, and credit where credit’s due, the fact that she’s been so busy is probably the only thing that’s kept her from super-speeding there before now. That, and she’s trying to work through the items on Lena’s list, because she is Kara Danvers, and Kara Danvers does not give up on _anything,_ least of all people she loves.   
  
But it’s hard. Lena is complicated and criss-crossed with more quiet fault lines than even Kara realised, radiating from the hundred hidden epicentres born of being raised a never-quite Luthor. There are so many things too delicate to touch, fragile porcelain tragedies that would shatter under the weight of her fingertips.  
  
A few minutes of swooping through the clouds gets her to Metropolis, and Lena’s attempt at keeping them separate is cute, but entirely ineffectual when Kara can reach her in about the same amount of time it takes to convince Alex to order pizza (re: next to no time at all).    
  
True to her word, Lena installed herself in an office with a balcony even bigger than the one in her last penthouse. Kara briefly entertains the idea that Lena likes Supergirl more than she lets on; might even be into her. It’s both a relieving and disheartening idea, oddly, all at once. On one level, perhaps (and god, she hopes not) Kara and Lena have passed like two ships in the cosmos, on different trajectories, and it is only as Supergirl that she can swoop back and make their paths cross again. That said, it twists Kara’s stomach to think that Lena could be ready to move on from them and what they had.     
  
The worry disappears when she lands on Lena’s balcony, and sees through the window that she’s looking at Kara’s article that went online earlier today. It’s just a puff piece about local theme parks, with no conceivable relevance to a CEO’s life, but Lena’s reading it anyway.   
  
“Knock-knock,” Kara calls out softly, not wanting to startle her, but still managing to.   
  
Lena flinches in surprise, before turning around and offering her a lazy half-smile. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to land a little louder so I know to expect you.”  
  
“If I landed any harder, I’d crack the tiles,” Kara counters, stepping tentatively into the office, hands poised on hips.   
  
“It’ll be in the papers tomorrow,” Lena says, “if anyone saw you. They’re going to wonder why Supergirl is taking a field trip.”  
  
“To stretch my legs.”  
  
“You flew here.”  
  
“My _metaphorical_ legs. I’m using a colloquial phrase generally used to convey a need to get out and break monotony, _Lena_.”  
  
“You really sound like an alien right now, just so you know.” She pauses. “It’s cute.”  
  
Kara’s lungs lose rhythm, but she ploughs ahead. “So, how’re things going here, anyways? Ready to come back to National City yet?” It’s barely been more than a week, but it’s worth a shot.

/ / /

Lena shrugs in response to Supergirl’s question. Things here are fine. It’s the things that aren’t here which sit under her ribs and press down on her lungs more and more with each passing day.   
  
“Okay, I guess. Lots of Lex’s associates trying to get buddy-buddy with me. I shut them all down, of course,” she clarifies quickly, because she needs Supergirl to trust her. It’s deeper than just wanting the respect of a hero, somehow, but she doesn’t really want to examine the urge, now or ever. “Old acquaintances wanting to meet up. Exes reappearing.”  
  
Supergirl frowns at that last one, eyebrows cinching together in that way Lena had assumed she reserved for particularly unsavoury villains, and personal nemeses.   
  
“Are you judging me because I just broke up with someone? Don’t. I have no interest in returning their calls.” It itches at Lena, offends her, almost: the idea that she could be over Kara already. Ever.  
  
Supergirl raises her hands in the universal don’t-shoot. “I’d never judge you, Lena, for anything. But you know I’m here for you, right? For anything you want. A friend. Or someone to help you forget, or to leave Lex’s old pals on the roofs of abandons buildings.”  
  
Lena laughs. “Isn’t that abuse of power?”  
  
“Would it be an abuse of power if we did it right now?” Supergirl pauses. “And by _it,_ I mean go hang out on the top of a building. To get you out of the office. Not anything else,” she rambles, hurrying to clarify.   
  
It’s adorable and reminds her of someone else who was forever trying to “get her out of the office”, and everything seems to go soft and quiet and static for a second. Sadness, creeping in from the edges, all the negative space thrown again into sharp relief.   
  
Lena swallows.   
  
“Yeah. Let’s do _it_.” The phrasing is purely selected to see if she can make Supergirl blush, and as it turns out, she _totally_ can.   
  
Maybe she can form new connections. Work to fill the boxes inside her left empty. It’ll never feel the way it did with Kara (fast, hard, bright, gentle, blazing; Kara taught her that infinity goes in all directions, not just in front or behind us, and nothing ever really runs out if you want it and miss it hard enough), but what else ever could? Someday, eventually, she will be all right enough to at least try.   
  
But then – then – Kara pops into her head (the way her eyes shine when she smiles, the threads of her hair that always fall in front of her face, the crease in her forehead when she’s concentrating) and she’s low-key wrecked again.

/ / /

Flying with Lena is both awesome and borderline impossible. She’s excited to share that rush, the blazing _freedom_ of her superpower with her ex-girlfriend, and everything’s great until Lena’s arms will tighten around her neck or her lips accidentally brush Kara’s collarbone, and she’ll almost accidentally crash them into a billboard.   
  
If Lena notices that she makes Kara the equivalent of a drunk driver, she doesn’t say anything. Kara’s glad. She’s still not sure how to explain that she likes (loves) Lena far, far too much for someone Lena believes doesn’t know her that well at all.   
  
She takes them to the top of the Daily Planet.   
  
They lie on the hard concrete of the helipad, staring up at the sky. Her super-suit has seen far worse than some dust, and Lena apparently doesn’t care that much about her skirt at all. For the record, Kara _really_ does.   
  
It’s nice and quiet up here: the city is calm that calm rises to rest between them as well. They’re doing nothing together and it’s still the highlight of Kara’s week.   
  
She reaches out and tangles her fingers with Lena’s, and grins to herself when Lena doesn’t pull away.   
  
She gazes up at the cosmos, and just as she does almost all of the time now, wonders if she should just _tell_ Lena who she really is. Could it really cause as much pain as all these lies by omission? There’s always a second where she really considers it, before she remembers the feeling in her bones she got when she heard there was an attempt on Lena’s life all those months ago, and how secrets are never flawlessly kept, and it would only be a matter of time before someone discovered this new reason to destroy Lena Luthor.  
  
“You’re thinking really loudly,” Lena observes gently.  
  
“I thought _I_ was the one with super-hearing,” Kara quips, “but listening to thoughts is a whole new level.”

The smile she gets in reply will stay with her all night, all week, however long it is between this visit and the next.

/ / /

Supergirl doesn’t stop the thoughts of Kara, but she does make them a little quieter. They’re always going to be an immovable object, these memories and wishes, but Supergirl is the literal definition of an unstoppable force.

/ / /

Kara isn’t particularly inclined to keep her hands to herself, but she settles for savouring the way their fingers are intertwined. Sometimes, things between them are hard and hot, but tonight, they feel new and small and fragile. Lena doesn’t need escape, this time; she needs a friend, needs someone who doesn’t look at her like they’re figuring out how to get what they want.   
  
It’s nice, it’s nice, it’s nice laying here together as if the world doesn’t exist around them, and it reminds her so much of what they had (makes her miss it more).   
  
Kara is struck, suddenly, by exactly how ridiculous they are. Together but apart. Attracting but repelling. Wanting but losing.   
  
She wonders what it would be like if they were normal people. If they’d met in a coffee shop and there were no threats or powers or worries, if life was being played on easy and there   
were bumpers on their bowling lanes.   
  
Kara dismisses the thought just as quickly as it arrives. Yeah, they’re a mess but she couldn’t give them up for anything.

/ / /

“Thanks,” Lena tells Supergirl once they’ve landed back at her office, and she really means it. Her shoulders are tensed to stone with stress most days, and this has let her breathe.   
  
Supergirl grins brightly. “You had a good time?”  
  
She nods.   
  
“I’ll come back soon,” Supergirl promises. She hesitates in front of Lena for a moment, as if wavering on the edge of doing something. She clearly decides to err on the side of caution for once, because she speeds out the window without taking another step closer.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao okay let me know what you think because this was quite different to anything else i've ever written


End file.
